The Accounts of a Demented Madwoman
by The-Serene-Mage
Summary: This is the account of a madwoman named Vaesha Maria Draecon, Vampire and ambassador of Dementia. Within you will read of her adventures across Nirn from her most recent mission issued to her by Lord Sheogorath, Prince of Madness. But beware, for even in her writings, the Seeds of Madness lurk and may ensnare you. Please R


** ~This is the account of a madwoman named Vaesha Maria Draecon, Vampire and ambassador of Dementia. **

** Within you will read of her adventures across Nirn from her most recent mission issued to her by Lord Sheogorath, Prince of Madness.**

** But beware, for even in her writings, the Seeds of Madness lurk and may ensnare you. So unless you want your soul to be claimed by Lord Sheogorath, then please, continue reading.**

** You have been warned. Turn the page if you dare.**

* * *

19th of Last Seed, 4E 201:

Sheogorath's madness this is by far the worst task given to me by the Mad God. Being stuck with your Manic counterpart for an indefinite part of time is the worst kind of torture for the Demented. Don't get me wrong, Vyri is a good madwoman, but after being stuck with her for a course of one-hundred and fifty years, you tend to get homicidal thoughts. Wait I phrased that wrong, all Demented get thoughts like that. You know what? Forget it; it will be hard to explain.

She causes a scene every time we go to Nirn. Sure we wear weird clothing for the denizens of Nirn, but our first task upon arriving is to find suitable clothes so we can blend in. When we reached the market of a city called 'Whiterun' she decided it would be best to dance on the well at the center of the market. I tried my best to act like I didn't know her, but she shouted my name numerous times which brought all eyes to me. That was the first rule broken. NEVER bring attention to yourself, and boy did she bring attention to not only her, but ME! I ignored her and walked towards the inn, it was better if I let the guards deal with her to teach her a lesson, rather than me spending the Septims given to me for expenses.

I rented a room and paid the innkeeper an extra sum to keep my location a secret. Starting tomorrow, I will be going my separate ways to keep myself from blowing my cover and casting a Daedric banishment spell on Vyri. The sooner I get my task done, the sooner I get back to the Shivering Isles where I won't be whispered about. The room I was given was stationed above the Main Hall with a small private lounge that gave a view of the entire inn. I locked the door to provide some privacy and some piece of mind while I slept, and then fell back on the bed, hoping for sleep, but as usual, it never came. Vampires don't really need to sleep, but after being in the sun in my near-starving condition, all of my energy had been sapped. It was too risky to find someone to drink from so I had to rely on mortal food, which wouldn't be bad if it didn't taste like ash in my mouth. I gag even at the thought.

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21st of Last Seed, 4E 201:

~ After two days of travelling, I managed to reach the city of Windhelm. I would have gotten here sooner if I didn't stop for a snack. I mean who can resist the chilling stoutness of Nord blood? I'd prefer the sweetness of Dunmer, but it wasn't until I reached this city that I came across one. Luckily the Nords I snacked upon had some spare clothes I could wear so I could properly blend in. Later I may travel down the district the Nords here call the "Grey Quarter" and find a good Dunmer to feed from. The Nords of this city don't seem to care if a Dunmer goes missing.

I Feel nothing but Dark Euphoria as I sit here drinking my "wine" while pretending to eat some Venison Stew. I am a wolf in Sheep's clothing, and I already found my first victim to plant the Seeds of Madness into. No harm done, am I right?

From what I hear, he likes odd trinkets, so I will show him an artifact I carried on my person for many years, and while he examines it, I will sow the seeds. Hopefully they sprout, for you have to be slightly mad in order for them to take root. But if he offers to buy my artifact, I will turn him down. The artifact is called "The Scales of Pitiless Justice" and they were a gift from my mentor and maker, Vincente Valtieri. I would rather be devoured by Namira than sell those. Now it is time to go, my victim who I learned is named Callixto, is on the move.

* * *

24th of Last Seed, 4E 201:

~I decided to hire a carriage to the next town. It is further north and the road often gets buried by blizzards from what the carriage driver told me. This place is so decollate however. Sure there are a few choice buildings here, but this place makes the border town of Passwall look glorious. What doesn't help is the fact that the inhabitants of this sorry settlement are so bitter to anyone who is a stranger. Apparently the only traffic this place gets, are people looking to enter the college settled at the edge of town. I don't see why anyone would want to study there; I mean the guard dog posted at the gate is snooty.

I tried entering, I took her bloody test, but when she asked my purpose at the college, she nearly laughed when I offered to teach my skills of Mysticism! That is a wondrous class to study under. Whoever decided it would be best to abandon the studies of that school, they will be sorry.

I am currently sitting in the main hall of the Inn, enjoying some Dunmer blood I had acquired back in Windhelm. I am surprised it survived the trip. The weather of northern Skyrim does wonders for preservation. I didn't even have to waste Magicka to keep it cold as I travelled. It won't be easy as I travel the land however; the other holds aren't as cold as this part.

Call me paranoid, but I feel as if I am being followed. The kind where I am the prey. No matter how hard I try, I cannot shake the feeling. I know it isn't Vyri, she wouldn't have found me as fast, and her attention span isn't as strong. Maybe some sleep would help settle my nerves. I must be stressed after my work in Windhelm.

* * *

29th of Last Seed, 4E 201:

~It's been a while since I wrote anything. The reasoning was because of my untimely death. It may seem strange that a dead woman is still writing, but I didn't truly die. My soul is bound to the Shivering Isles until Sheogorath no longer has a use for me, until then I will return to the Shivering Isles to recuperate whenever I "die". Anyway the night that I "died", I woke up to the sounds of the tumblers within the lock turning. I pretended to sleep as I reached under my pillow where I kept my prized dagger, Sufferthorn.

The intruder turned out to be a Vampire, and boy did he reek of Daedric influence. He had a personal vendetta against the carries of the feral strain of the _Sanguinare Vampiris_ disease. We had a bit of a scuffle; I managed to scrape his cheek with my dagger, leaving a line cut diagonally across it, his blood slowly spilling out. He retaliated with a hiss before plunging his dagger into my heart however. It hurt, so that meant that the dagger was of Daedric origin and it also burned so it was enchanted with fire.

After five days of regenerating I can still feel the burn of the vampire's blade in my chest. It left a scar, just my luck. As if the scar across my neck was enough of my ambush scars. What surprised me the most was that my room was left the way it was when I "died"; the innkeeper didn't even expect a thing. All my things were still in my knapsack which was hanging at the edge of the bed. But the clothes I wore to blend in were lying in a pile of my ashes, torn up and burned in several places.

If I ever meet that Vampire again, the first thing he is going to do is buy me some new clothes! For now I will have to deal with the dress in the wardrobe. Once I leave the inn however, that dress will be modified into something more comfortable. It is time to travel east, I wasted time regenerating; I could be in Western Skyrim by now!

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31st of Last Seed, 4E 201:

~Sheogorath's Madness that trip took forever! Since there were no stables in that desolate town, I had to go by foot through a bloody blizzard to Windhelm, only to find out that the carriage driver was busy repairing his wagon while his horses recovered from some injuries. I had to trek through a stretch of hot springs. By the time I was halfway through however, I was famished, my time recovering made my body weak and not even the Dunmer blood I had saved was enough to sate my hunger.

Luckily I came across some Altmer. One was a mage; the other two looked to be either Spellblades, or Battle-mages. It didn't matter to me, I was hungry, and they had become my food. They sure put up a fight though. I don't think I will ever understand why the Altmer practice the school of magic that they are weak against. They went down with a fight and I managed to get burned pretty badly. After draining one of the Battle-mages, the burns were healed for the most part, but my skin still felt as if a thousand needles were sticking into my flesh.

I currently sat in a meager inn called "The Bee and the Barb" in a rundown town called Riften. This place was run by a female Argonian whose attitude made me wonder how she is still in business. Her partner was kinder to me that she was. I sat in a semi-dark corner drinking my Altmer "wine" while pretending to eat some goat cheese. I locked eyes with a woman with sapphire blue eyes and she glared at me. I made a face back and that made her roll her eyes before turning to leave.

No one in this town seemed to be fit for Sheogorath's gift. I could always try the beggars, but what good are they? I need someone who can influence others. I visited the keep earlier to try and find someone but became intrigued by the Court Wizard who seemed to be already touched by Sheogorath. Either she went mad on her own or Vyri was here at some point, though I highly doubt it.

Maybe some sleep will help. I'm still a little weak from regenerating and from my burns obtained from those Altmer. Maybe I will travel to the villages throughout this hold and find someone to bless. Hopefully I won't be visited in the middle of the Night.


End file.
